I Quit

I quit, again, after another weekend of smoking pot.

I’m much nicer when I am stoned, ask anyone.

(Sam doesn’t like it though) So I have to give it away.

I'm a good boy, a good boy, I say. What a good boy am I.

(Here we go again, I know you are thinking, it has been a difficult few months, that is for sure)

I’m Little ciggie mourner

sitting in a corner,

eating a congratulatory pie;

I put in my thumb,

And pulled out a plum an extra 10 kilos

(I can feel it gathering around my stomach as I speak)

And say, ‘What a good boy am I.

What a good boy indeed.

I am developing the powers of Mister Fantastic, as I write my quitting smoking story, so I can reach around and pat myself on the back.

Never quit quitting because one day, you know, it is going to stick.